


Shelter

by ChristineThalassinou1990



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Best Friends, Feudal Japan, Gen, Jedi, Katana, Sith, Writing Exercise, writing experiment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-06-05 17:39:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15175922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristineThalassinou1990/pseuds/ChristineThalassinou1990
Summary: RE-UPLOAD (after some editing).Very AU! (Further information in the author's note. Please read it!)After a devastating war wih the Siths which ended in a treaty both groups like and tend to ignore, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon meet for the first time since Qui disappeared in the middle of the war, leaving Obi, his supposed best friend, behind. Why did he do that? And what does he want from Obi now?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well... First let me warn everyone: it's just a writing experiment which is messing with the idea of a SW AU. The story takes place in a setting and culture that resembles the best to the feudal Japan, with samurai and all (but it's NOT Japan). Basically, Jedi are samurai here, with kimono and katana and all. The Force is present, they can use it, but there isn't a strict organisation like the Jedi Order in SW.   
> Also, Qui and Obi is around the same age, Qui is ~40, Obi is 30-35. I'm not planning to write slash, however, I like the genre pretty much. Even I don't know yet where this story is going, but I enjoy writing it very much. I hope you would enjoy reading it!  
> My honest and heartfelt thanks goes to MillionLights, who was kind enough to accept my beta-request.

The full moon in the sky observed in everlasting indifference as a dark figure ran across the grass-covered plain. The tall, long-haired male was beaten, scared, and exhausted. He didn't dare to stop, though, for he had no idea if someone was still tailing him.

A minute later, the uneven ground seemed to decide the issue at hand as the man stumbled and flew forward, crashing into the earth with such force that he swore he could feel one of his ribs snap. As if he hadn't been in enough pain already. His once neat and tidy kimono was torn and soaked in blood – both his own and not – he was covered all over with bruises and grazes, but his most dangerous injury was a deep gash on his back, caused by a sword.

Recovering from the shock of the crash-landing, Qui-Gon Jinn seriously began to consider the possibility of staying there on the grass and just passing out, waiting for death to arrive, but he knew he wouldn't – couldn't – do that. He was a born fighter and he never gave up, regardless the odds of his survival. Perhaps that's why the Sith liked hunting him so much; they probably placed bets on which of them could kill him first.

Qui-Gon had no intention at all to give them that pleasure anytime soon, so he took a deep, painful breath and stood up. It seemed that once again luck was on his side because he didn't see or hear anyone nearby, not even when he used the Force to probe for harmful intentions. No Sith presence was in the near vicinity; it looked like he got rid of them.

_So I'm gonna live through the night... perhaps_ , he thought grimly as he continued his way to the village he knew was nearby, the place where he hoped to find the person he sought.

 

Obi-Wan Kenobi sat outside his small cottage watching the moon, lost in his thoughts, not really seeing anything. Since the war with the Sith was officially over – on paper anyway – he lived a lonely life that others could call boring. However, he was content if not happy; he didn't have to fight and watch his friends die or be crippled for the rest of their lives. Obi-Wan felt that right now he couldn't ask more of his life, and he didn't want to, either.

Perhaps one day the Jedi and the Sith would learn to live beside each other, but it wasn't the case yet. The war ended for one reason only: none of the factions wanted to end up being extinct, and it was inevitable without a treaty. So they made the treaty, and since then the two groups moved to the farthest possible regions from each other. That didn't mean they never met, moreover, there were radicals on both sides who didn't give the slightest shit about the treaty and secretly hunted each other.

Obi-Wan didn't want to be caught up between them again, so he had moved into a friendly little village and was trying to live his life in peace.

However, this plan seemed to crumble when he suddenly sensed a far too familiar presence nearby, and soon he saw a sight that proved he wasn't mistaken. It was the picture of Qui-Gon Jinn dragging himself slowly up the path led to Obi-Wan's home. It was too dark to see clearly, but through the Force, Obi-Wan felt the other's pain and exhaustion. When Qui-Gon drew nearer, Obi-Wan smelled blood.

"Just what the hell happened to you?" he asked, unable to completely hide his worry, anger, and disappointment.

Qui-Gon had disappeared during the war, leaving Obi-Wan and the others alone. No one knew where he'd gone or why he'd left, and some suspected that he'd turned and become a Sith himself. Obi-Wan thought this was bullshit, but he was very angry with Qui-Gon; for some time he even wished the older man was dead.

Now, Obi-Wan could see that Qui-Gon was alive and kicking. However, he seemed close to keeling over. He shivered constantly, his gaze was unfocused and before he could answer Obi-Wan's question, he collapsed on the ground, no doubt increasing the number of his already countless bruises.

Obi-Wan sighed; he could be as angry as he liked later, but he didn't want to stand by as Qui-Gon bled to death on his doorstep. The wound on his back looked pretty bad.

"Hey! Wake up!" Obi-Wan snapped as he slapped Qui-Gon's face a few times, "I won't drag you all over the place."

Qui-Gon opened his eyes a bit and groaned loudly. He couldn't find the strength to form words but stood up with Obi-Wan's help. His back was killing him and he could hardly breathe, so he just concentrated on taking one step after the other. Left, right, left, right. He could do this.

The next thing he knew, he was sitting on a mattress. Obi-Wan wasn't there, but he quickly appeared with hot water and clean bandages. After putting these down, he sat behind Qui-Gon and removed his clothes as gently as he could.

"Holy crap, who did this to you?" he muttered to himself as he began to clean the wound on Qui-Gon's back.

The long-haired man jerked away at first (it hurt like hell), but when Obi-Wan groaned in frustration, he stayed motionless as best as he could. By the time Obi-Wan was finished with him, he was unconscious again.

Obi-Wan collected his former comrade's bloody, dirty clothes and soaked them in water; he'd try to wash them later. He didn't really know what to do with Qui-Gon, but he didn't want to deal with this dilemma while the other was knocked out cold in the house. He had no idea what Qui-Gon could want from him, but he had no intention to get involved, to do anything. He had thought he was done with Qui-Gon.

It was at least five years ago when he saw Qui-Gon for the last time, so it was quite a shock to have him back in his life again. They were like best friends, so it had hurt very much that the other deserted, leaving them behind without even a note. For a while, Obi-Wan wanted to go and hunt him down, but he was busy fighting in the war. When it was over, he had resolved to forget the very existence of his once friend. Now, he had no choice but to put that plan on hold.

Obi-Wan let out a frustrated sigh and tried to get rid of these anxieties; he knew it would only end up in a headache. Qui-Gon was here, injured and unconscious, and most definitely in need of help. He could yell at him when he'd woken up.

"Whoever you ran into, he thrashed you pretty badly," Obi-Wan murmured as he pulled the blanket around Qui-Gon tighter. The older man stirred a bit and buried his head deeper into the pillow.

Obi-Wan watched him thoughtfully, trying to determine how much time Qui-Gon would need to heal. The bruises were one thing – they would disappear soon enough – but the wound on his back was deep; he'd lost a considerable amount of blood and was exhausted enough to sleep a few days in a row. They were stuck together for the time being.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read by MillionLights, therefore any mistakes remained are mine.

For a while, Qui-Gon had only two kinds of state: long periods of blessed darkness and short but painful times of consciousness. His back hurt like hell – even the smallest of movement was agonizing enough to make him whimper – and Obi-Wan wasn't in the friendliest mood either. It wasn't like Qui-Gon could or would blame him, though. He'd left him in the middle of a war, after all.

The next time he stayed awake for longer than a few minutes was two days later, in the early morning. He felt the warmth of the sun on his face and opened his eyes slowly. He was lying on a more or less comfortable mattress, curled up on his side under a worn but warm blanket which had a scent that reminded him of Obi-Wan. Speaking about Obi-Wan, he needed to talk to him, to at least thank him for taking care of him, and not leaving him to die. Qui-Gon knew that he'd have deserved the latter.

In his musing about his current relationship with Obi-Wan – or more like about the non-existence of it – he forgot about his aching back for a moment and tried to sit up. That was a grave mistake, as he soon realized when the pain hit him. He fell back onto the pillow, shivering violently and curling up instinctively.

A minute later, Qui-Gon felt a gentle caress on his sweaty forehead. The touch was comforting, and he leaned into it without thinking.

"You need to be more careful," Obi-Wan said, sounding a fair bit friendlier than previously, "You took a brutal beating. Would you care to tell me what happened?"

He pulled back his hand, much to Qui-Gon's dismay, but the older Jedi didn't feel like he was entitled to complain. So he just nodded and tried to speak, only to have a coughing fit right away.

"Here." Obi-Wan helped him to drink some water.

"Thank you," Qui-Gon groaned, shifting as he tried to find a bit more comfortable position.

After he found it, Obi-Wan sat down next to him and glared at him with cold eyes, so frigid that Qui-Gon swallowed instinctively. He didn't want to make Obi-Wan angrier than he already was with him.

"So? Who tried to kill you?" he asked, and for a moment Qui-Gon truly believed that Obi-Wan wouldn't have cared at all if he were dead. The mere thought of it was painful, but he did his best to hide this pain. Obi-Wan had every right to hate him if he wanted to.

"It was a Sith. And that's all I know. It was already dark and I wanted to find a place where I could sleep for a few hours. He found me and tried to kill me on the spot."

Obi-Wan knew very well that there were Sith who'd indeed attack a Jedi on sight, but something told him that there was more behind this incident. Many Sith wanted Qui-Gon dead or to see him tortured and dead, but only a few among them would dare to attack him on their own. For most of the Sith, Qui-Gon was simply much more than they could chew. In a one-on-one scenario, it was no questions who would triumph.

"And what happened to that Sith?" Obi-Wan asked, his curiosity stirring up a little bit.

"Well... he was in a worse shape than I when he fled, but he still managed to get away. I couldn't have possibly chased him; I was glad I was still alive..."

Obi-Wan almost let it slip that he, too, was glad that Qui-Gon was still alive, but stopped himself right away. He was still angry and still wanted to yell at Qui-Gon for leaving him alone in a war, but in the last two days, he realized that he couldn't have dealt with losing him irrevocably. Although they had been far away from each other, he always knew that Qui-Gon was alive somewhere, and it calmed him in a way. No matter how angry Obi-Wan was with Qui-Gon, he didn't want him dead, at least not before he could get some explanation for his sudden desertion.

"Could it be that the Sith are hunting you specifically for some reason?" he asked in lieu of admitting his true feelings.

Qui-Gon shrugged and grimaced when it hurt more than he thought it would.

"Perhaps," he murmured. Obi-Wan felt for sure that he knew more than he gave away.

"Look... if you don't tell me something I should know, I can't help you," he said, surprising both himself and Qui-Gon with that statement.

"Would you help me if I'd been in trouble?" Qui-Gon asked, clearly shocked by Obi-Wan's kind-of offer.

"I've already helped... You didn't bleed to death before my eyes, if I remember correctly," Obi-Wan replied dryly.

Qui-Gon hung his head, a bit ashamed and embarrassed.

"Well, yeah... Thank you for saving me. Honestly," he muttered, tugging his blanket nervously.

Obi-Wan took pity on him, at least for the time being. He gave Qui-Gon something to eat, but he just picked on his rice and meat, and he didn't even drink all of his tea.

"Hey, what's up with you?" Obi-Wan asked, surprised; he'd never met a bigger tea fan than Qui-Gon.

"I just – don't feel well," he answered, and it was not entirely a lie. He indeed felt a bit sick, but it was mostly his guilt causing him to lose all his appetite. He should've never come back to Obi-Wan, but he missed his friend painfully. And he needed help; he had no one but Obi-Wan to trust in his current situation.

"Okay. Try to sleep, maybe it'll help," Obi-Wan suggested gently. Qui-Gon didn't contradict; he didn't feel like talking anyway.

Obi-Wan watched with barely concealed worry as Qui-Gon turned toward the wall, curled up, and soon fell asleep. He seemed lonely and somewhat vulnerable, and Obi-Wan couldn't help feeling sorry for him. The anger was still there, but he couldn't deny any longer that he had missed Qui-Gon, and he was happy to have him back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beta-read by MillionLights

In the late evening, Jedi Master Dooku walked slowly on the busy streets of Coruscant, ever-watchful and always on alert. Although the war was over, it was just the official state of the relationship between Jedi and Sith – emphasis on the word 'official'. Most of the time, the prominent members of both of the Force-user groups avoided each other, as was expected from them in accordance to the signed treaty. But there were the few – or not so few – radicals who simply didn't give the slightest damn about the treaty and practically begged for trouble.

Dooku himself had needed to deal with more than one radical Sith who had tried their skills on him. They regretted it miserably later, but still, they were a problem, and a rather big one at that.

Dooku was about to enter one of his preferred tea houses in the city when he felt a kind of warning from the Force. There was somebody or something nearby that could be dangerous or interesting to him. Dooku decided to follow his instincts and investigate a little, so he turned on his heel and started to search for the source of this uneasiness.

He passed a few rows of houses before the feeling got stronger, and it wasn't long before he came across a small group of Sith sitting together and talking on the terrace of a tavern. It seemed they had already consumed quite a few shots because they didn't notice Dooku nearby, he could probably get to the terrace, sit down, and order a drink without the Sith spotting him.

While he waited for his drink to arrive, Dooku subtly but carefully watched the band, trying to determine if they were up to something he shouldn't let happen; the Force led him here for a reason, after all, of that he was sure as hell.

The Sith band didn't look like a real threat even if they had been sober. They were all humans, two males and a quite pretty female; even Dooku had to admit that. She had long, raven-black hair and big amber eyes, and her face looked nice, as long as one didn't take a better look at her gaze. It was cruel and cold, a gaze of a killer who'd gut anyone without a second thought.

The arrival of the waitress distracted Dooku for a minute, but his attention soon snapped back to the Sith when he heard a familiar name: Jinn. His anger almost instantly flared with the thought that someone had once again tried to hurt his favourite apprentice, and he could barely restrain himself from doing something rash and hasty.

"...hear that? Maul pretty much beat the bastard up," one of the males told to his companions; Dooku almost Force-choked him on the spot.

The only thing that stopped him was his hunger for more information. He had seen this Maul creature a few times. A bit short but thickly-built man with strange red and black tattoos on his face, and a dangerous warrior to boot.

"Well, it doesn't really matter since he didn't manage to kill Jinn, and got a pretty little beat-down himself." The female wasn't so impressed by Maul's accomplishments as her friends.

"He'll do it next time, I'm tellin' ya," the drunkest man stated, rather overconfidently. "That bastard can't run foreva'..."

That caught Dooku's attention. Why did the Sith want Qui-Gon dead so much? Why Qui-Gon? What did he do to them? It must've been something rather painful for their community, like killing half of them, or something just as grave.

Unfortunately, after a few more words about how big a "bastard" Qui-Gon was, the subject of the conversation changed to the best sword makers and blacksmiths in the city, and other topics just as important to warriors like them. That didn't interest Dooku, as he had his preferred places where he could get everything he needed as a Jedi. So, after he finished his drink, he got up and walked away from the tavern.

"Hey... do you see what I see?" said one of the male Sith, "We have a Jedi here!"

Dooku sighed impatiently; they weren't drunk enough not to spot the Jedi symbol on the back of his kimono. It was an easily recognizable emblem with the white wings forming a circle around a sword-like silhouette. Most of the time, the Jedi wore it proudly, but in some situations, it could attract unwanted attention. Like now.

"You don't want trouble," Dooku said as he slowly turned toward the sitting group.

He didn't use a Force-suggestion, he simply stated the facts while resting his hand casually on the hilt of his katana. He knew that if the situation got out of hand so much that he had to draw the sword, there'd be bloodshed, something he wasn't really up to right now. Not because he wasn't prepared enough, but because he simply wasn't in the mood for it. It was getting late and chilly, and he wanted a cup of hot tea and a few hours of sleep.

The Sith who called after him began to stand up, but the female yanked him back while casting a malicious glance at Dooku, as if she was trying to tell him that they weren't done yet. Dooku just looked back impassively, his dark brown eyes as cold as they could get with such a warm colour. After a minute or so, the woman grudgingly looked away first.

"That's what I thought," Dooku smirked, turning away.

He expected at least some obscene shouting after him, but the Sith were strangely silent; perhaps they really didn't want trouble. Dooku was, in fact, glad that he could avoid the fight with these pieces of scum. He didn't like Sith at all, but he didn't want to directly go against the treaty either; he wasn't a troublemaker after all.

However, it seemed that his ex-apprentice was just the opposite, preferring to give a reason to the Sith to actively hunt him down. Dooku really wanted to know what Qui-Gon did to them, and for this, he just had to find him. The only problem was that he had no idea at all about where to begin this search.


End file.
